


All Forms of Matter and Energy

by Mossbeast, Rayvenfire12



Category: Bleach, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mandalorian Grimmjow, Mental Health Issues, Other, Space AU, The Mandalorian Au, Which is not my usual MO, beta'd FOR ONCE, i have no idea how to tag this, i was sober when i wrote this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28901313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossbeast/pseuds/Mossbeast, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvenfire12/pseuds/Rayvenfire12
Summary: Taking a page out of hito's book and making a canon-rewrite with Bleach characters in The Mandalorian universe.Grim is a Mandalorian making his way through the galaxy by bounty hunting, until he receives a job that makes him question the way of Mand'alor and that of the bounty hunter's guild. He soon finds himself on a quest to return his target to his own and with some very conflicting feelings, too.I really need to work on my summaries..
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	All Forms of Matter and Energy

**Author's Note:**

> Rayven (I can't thank you enough) said this is good to post. So here you go!
> 
> This, too, is pure self-indulgence and a lot of brainrot. Read at your own discretion, you have been warned.

" _New Job. Report to Bay 12 Hangar 3729.1 by no later than 56.82,9 local time_ ", the message on the tiny blinking screen read. He sighed and disengaged the messaging system, before taking a good look at his surroundings. He wouldn't make it in time without a speeder and these things were notoriously rare around these parts. The warehouses were rusty; full of grime, metal shavings, and machine oil, as well as broken down engine parts haphazardly covered with linens, but no working speeder. Any personnel that could have helped him work the terminals had been eliminated by the earlier combat with his target, his prey, that was now safely frozen and stored in the belly of his ship. It had been a long while since he'd given in to his hunter instincts. Just given chase and mauled his way through the contracts, and it had felt good to say the least.  
Sadly the Republic usually preferred their criminals alive so he only hurt himself if he turned them in looking like a dog had chewed on them. It also, surprisingly, helped with keeping his identity under wraps.  
For one thing, the Beskar helmet hid pretty much everything: his hair, estigma, and eyes among other things, and for another thing, the training under the Mandalorians had immensely helped too - in a group of them he didn't stand out.  
Same movement patterns, same weapons skills, uniform appearance. Unified by their creed, by the teachings of Mand'alor, they became a single force even if they were scattered across the galaxy and operating in underground networks.

He made his way out of the warehouse district and into the more lively quarters, where he smacked right into a pair of very shapely breasts."Heard you were here. Anything we can help you with?" Shihoin Yoruichi stood tall and proud, clad in skintight black Spandex and signature orange leather jacket, right in the middle of the busy street he'd been heading down. A second earlier his trajectory had been free. She had a habit of showing up seemingly at random, but there was a method to her madness, he just hadn't figured out which it was. She looked like she always did, dark purple hair pulled up in a high ponytail, bangs framing the even face, dark, slightly olive toned skin without blemishes or scars, her strangely reptilian eyes gleaming mischievously in the soft, colorful light that spilled from colorful blinking advertisement boards, reflecting oddly in the shiny surfaces.  
"A speeder." She nodded, the same odd non-expression on her face as always.  
"There's the one you left behind the dumpster at the Quomaku'uhl. It still works, and no droids touched it."  
"That's guild tech."  
"They all think it's broken", she smirked. "Besides, I did you a solid and removed the tracker. It's _clean_." Damn she really knew her way around a man's heart. Upon telling her, her face split into her usual cheshire cat grin, pointy fangs glinting. Everything about her was shiny and sharp, dangerous and alluring. He didn't know what she was, but she'd make a fine assassin.  
"You humble me, Grim-kitty." Her body pressed close to him in a gentle hug, and judging by the tilt of her head she also had kissed his helmet. "And one day I will see your face."  
"We don't take off the helmet in the presence of others. That is the-"  
" _That is the way_ ", she intoned, "I know. I just think there's a killer smile and a gorgeous face hiding behind that helmet and I want my theory proven."  
He stared at her, long and hard, emotions hidden beneath the shaded visor and Beskar plate, deliberating on the use of telling her off once again. But as always she seemed to read his thoughts.  
"Don't worry your pretty little head too much. I won't harm your creed." She tapped a finger against her lips. They looked just a little too even, a little too symmetrical, to be entirely real. He didn't know to what extent her body had been altered but sometimes he wondered if she was one of those who needed an entirely artificial means to get around. Not that it'd ever be any of his business. He focused on the present and saw her grin like a shark. Again.  
"What is it now?", he asked warily.  
"Oh nothing of importance. I've taken the liberty to stock you up with field rations as thanks for your work on Tatooine. Don't be a stranger, Grim."  
"I'll see when the next bounty drags me back."  
"You must have more in your life than just work work work", she complained, pouting in the most ridiculously faked way he'd ever seen.  
"Maintaining a ship is expensive. And the rest goes to the foundlings." Yoruichi's face softened a fraction.  
"I know. You are always welcome here. Perhaps one day you can operate from here", she sighed. "The gods know there's more than enough work for you around here."  
"Does it pay well?"  
"In credits?", a humorless snort. "I'm afraid not. Reputation, though, that you can easily rack up around here."  
"Reputation doesn't fuel my ship. Why don't you do it?"  
"And risk being identified? No thanks. I'll see you around?"  
He nodded and she weaved into the crowd, disappearing from his sight within seconds. He could have tracked her with the tech hidden in his helmet, but it was of no use and he did enjoy a display of competence. Yoruichi had him pegged to the tiniest detail, save his face. He snorted at the thought and turned towards the Quomaku'uhl. The temple district was generally quieter, people in his line of work often feared divine retribution or punishment, and thus avoided the places where others came to seek guidance or repent. He was no stranger to these feelings, although the Way had shaped him in a manner to accept that he was both predator and prey and thus would kill and one day be killed himself. The knowledge of his inevitable end was enough to quiet the doubtful voices in his mind.

The speeder was exactly where he'd left it, and if not for the obvious care at the machine itself he'd say it hadn't been touched since he had last used it. He made it to the meet-up with minutes to spare. The docking bay was new, it shone in a way that made it clear that it belonged to one of the wealthier remnants of the fallen Empire.  
He absolutely didn't like meeting clients on their own turf and Empire loyalists were a whole new can of worms on top of that, but he grit his teeth, engaged all scanning systems he had equipped and hoped for the best. A whole slew of Stormtroopers flooded the first half of the hangar and the pressure seal snapped shut.  
"Identify yourself!", one of them barked. His armor was scuffed and dirty, just like the others', a clear sign that the government they were still dutifully hanging on to didn't pay them their dues any longer.  
"I've been sent for a job. Bounty Hunter Guild", he answered.  
"Let's see some proof, tin bucket", the speaker piped up. He stepped closer towards the bounty hunter, hand stretched out to receive something. Grim's hand went to his waist to grab the transponder that had so rudely interrupted him earlier, when all the blasters clicked and were suddenly pointed at him with a purpose. He lifted his hands, palms outstretched, to signal them to calm down.  
"The Guild Trans-"  
"Ah... A Mandalorian. How very fitting", a tall, pale man suddenly materialized in front of him, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. His hair was silvery white, almost translucent, and his eyes seemed closed. "Please follow me, I'll show you to the table. You must excuse the security measures, we have been looking to get this contract done for a while but it seems to backfire. The target is very, very valuable to us." The bounty hunter didn't necessarily like it but he didn't have much choice but to follow the man. The Beskar'gam would protect him from the worst, but not all and at such a short distance he might as well not be wearing it at all.

The table was exactly that, a table, made from a dark material, wood presumably, it stood massive and undecorated in the middle of what looked like a haphazardly secured meeting room. The Golden days of Empire loyalists was truly over, then, if they couldn't even afford to get their lairs properly outfitted to serve as bunkers any longer. The bounty hunter took note of the flailing attempt to uphold the image of the Empire and stifled a snort. These people didn't know when they were beaten.  
His guide drifted around the table, raising his hand a little to placate the present Stormtroopers, who promptly lowered their weapons. At least the Empire had been thorough in training their soldiers. Perhaps the only thing he could appreciate about them. The Way of Mand'alor valued other things than blind obedience and pointless sacrifice, so he often stood at odds with official government forces.  
Another man, this one had dark skin and purple hair in delicate braids (he reminded Grim oddly of Yoruichi, only where she seemed dangerous for her fighting he seemed all the more dangerous from the people he commanded), and a sleek silver visor over his eyes, stepped out from behind a pillar. It was more structural than to create a pompous room, but Grim had very little doubt that the entire move had been orchestrated to the smallest detail.  
"My friend here tells me you're a Mandalorian", the man said. "I've heard the stories of your people. Great battle prowess comes with grave consequences." He coughed. Hunched over and near spasming he looked much older, however he couldn't be a day over 50. He'd either gotten gassed in the war or caught some weird backwater bug.  
"The target", he answered, unwilling to spend more time with pointless smalltalk.  
"It's very important to us that you find it. We were told you're very expensive, but it's a price we're willing to pay." The newcomer, the actual client apparently, sat down on the massive chair behind the table. He took off the visor over his eyes to reveal milky-white scleras staring at the Mandalorian. A scare-tactic, Grim knew it too well from survivors of the war, and he didn't care for it. "I'm sure we can agree on a payment."  
The pale man pulled a metal ingot from his sleeve and carefully placed it on the middle of the table. It was silver, with darker swirls, and the imperial smelter symbol pressed into one of the corners.  
"Beskar?", Grim couldn't hide his surprise. The pale man smiled even wider, it looked almost grotesque now.  
"It's real. Go ahead and confirm."  
Almost reverently he picked up the ingot, turned it and felt the weight in his hands. This was worth a lot, and could possibly even foster one or two foundlings.  
"The Beskar belongs back into the hands of a Mandalorian. It is good to restore the natural order of things after a period of such disarray, don't you agree?", the blind man said. "Consider this the down payment. There is more upon delivery of the target."  
Grim put the ingot back on the table. "The chain code", he said.  
"I'm afraid there is no chain code. We can only offer the last four digits and the last known location."  
"Its _age_ ", the bounty hunter asked incredulously.  
"We were assured a man of your caliber could work with this", the pale man answered. He reminded Grim a little of a sand fox, with his closed eyes and wide smile. Unassuming, but dangerous in his own ways. This man was hunter and prey as well, perhaps, when cornered, even more dangerous than the actual client. He could respect that. Only years of training held in the tiny acknowledging nod at the other predator in the room.  
"We have a tracking fob", the blind man eventually said into the oppressive silence, and his companion pulled it out of his sleeve as well to toss it over to Grim, who caught it and got up, taking the Beskar ingot off the table. The blind man and the pale man remained where they were, staring after him just like the blasters from their hired Stormtroopers.

The bounty hunter finally made his way to the hideout of the Mandalorians, aiming straight for the forgemaster. The forge was situated fairly central within the hideout, a dark, deep rotunda with the actual forge dominating the space. The forgemaster stood behind the ring structure, the heat of the flames warping the air and making her look like some sort of apparition. Her armor shone in the light of the flames and spoke of revenge, and the crown upon her helmet sent an obvious message. He kneeled in front of the small table off to the side and patiently waited for her to finish her task and make her way over to him.  
When she did move, he pulled the Beskar ingot from his pocket and placed it on the table, for her to take and inspect like he had not an hour ago. She took it, studied it for a while and then set it down. The black T-visor seemed to level him with her stare. The forge was silent save for the hissing and roaring of the blue flames.  
"This was gathered in the Great Purge", she finally said, her tone devoid of emotion. "It is good it is back with the Tribe." He nodded, unwilling to say anything. The forgemaster was one of few words, but those that she spoke held great importance. Missing them could prove disastrous.  
"A pauldron would be in order. Has your signet been revealed?" Gathering the piece of metal off the table she stood, making her way back to the forge. A strand of pale yellow hair with a tiny pearl beaded onto it fell out from under her helmet and swayed with her movement. Rumor had it she bore three children but lost them all in the Great Purge. Grim didn't give much for the rumors, they all had their past but put it aside the very moment they put on their Beskar'gam. She deserved her peace as much as any of the others did.  
Her question was easily answered, he had no signet as of yet.  
"Soon.", was all she replied and began preparing the forge. "This is extremely generous. The excess will sponsor many Foundlings."  
"That's good." He swallowed harshly against a lump in his throat. "I was once a Foundling."  
The forgemaster paused her preparations and leveled him another gaze. When she spoke, a smile seemed to lace her tone. "I know."

He watched her exact her craft, skillfully swinging forge tools and carefully fitting the pauldron to his shoulder. The sparks and clanging, banging noise took him to his childhood, a village going up in flames, the last glimpses of his parents before he was shoved into a woven basket and hidden from the Empire. He remembered the droids who came after, rounding up the survivors and forcing all to kneel so that the soldiers would have an easier time killing them. He remembered the primal fear racing down his back, the world shifting and becoming less colorful but more pointed. A faint taste of blood in his mouth as he tore through the throat of the commanding officer before stumbling into the woods on four unsteady paws, hiding in trees and the thick undergrowth.  
Troopers had come to find him, several times, they'd started sending droids after a while because his claws and fangs proved useless against the metal carcasses, but he learned.

A hand to his shoulder raised him back to the present as the forgemaster fastened the pauldron to his armor. She didn't say anything, but he was certain she knew where his mind had been. He left without another word and she seemed content enough with her work to let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Ami and N from the GrimmIchi discord said shitty science puns make good titles. So there. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
